Or motivation. Or something anyway.
I've mostly been ok. Had a good birthday last Saturday - pleasant day with family, my mother came down to visit and looked after the Terror while we went out with a whole group of friends. Pub afterwards - all very enjoyable. Sunday was also good, and yesterday not too bad despite the occasional tantrum. We went to the National Rail Museum, which enteratained all three of us to some degree or other.
And today again was ok. Terror was excited about going back to school, I coped ok with appointment at bank and doing stuff around town. I wish I hadn't agreed to upgrading my account as I doubt we'll use any of the benefits and the increased interest rate doesn't quite pay for itself. But at least it's prompted me to reorganise finances, and ringing up to cancel will be another exercise in talking on the phone.
Still, I do feel occasionally....at a loose end. Not quite motivated to do housework (I did none today for example). Scared of things I should be looking forward to. Not sure of my ability to run a game even, despite everyone seeming to think it'll be ok. And while I had a pleasant evening (wine and Sleepy Hollow) now friends have gone home and it looks like I'll be in bed before my beloved returns from hir work "do", I can't help feeling just a little melancholy again. There's just always this fear hanging over me. A fear of not doing the job I set myself well enough. A fear of letting people down. A fear of not finding a place in this world for myself. A combination of the alcohol and depression talking no doubt - but it always seems to be there in the back of my mind. I just forget it occasionally. That and the other thing - the love I wish I could just accept and forgive myself for, knowing it too will pass. But as forgiving and accepting as my better half is, I know it pains hir so. So I hate that part of myself too.
Blogging when tired and tipsy is never a good thing, and yet as people keep insisting they want to know what the matter is, maybe I should tell them. It is simply this. I know I'm ill and I just have to keep going on. I have a lot to be thankful and happy for. Things won't be as bad as I fear. But these quiet moments just creep up on me and my heart sinks. That's all.